Crikey!
by wargear
Summary: It is imperative that an emissary be sent to the giants, but who could replace Hagrid while he is away? Chapter four up.
1. one

This little piece of fluff should in no way be considered a challenge to the ownership of the characters or intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. Send not thy Lawyers to bedevil me. Please.

Dumbledore was concerned. Word had reached him that Voldemort was sending emissaries out to the various (supposedly) dark creatures. Steps would have to be taken.

He looked up, thoughtfully, from the report in front of him as a massive figure somehow slipped through the doorway to his office.

"Yeh called fer me, Professor Dumbledore?" Rumbled from somewhere within the thickly bearded expanse.

The Headmaster nodded towards a comfortable three-seater couch that had just emerged from the floor of his office. "Have a seat Hagrid."

The Care of Magical Creatures professor moved with an agility completely belied by his incredible size, avoiding the many obstacles that lined the Headmaster's office, and easily dropped into the couch. Shaggy eyebrows rose as he took note of Dumbledore's expression.

Letting out a resigned sigh the Headmaster began, "It seems that the giants may well side with Voldemort…"

Hagrid sat upright sharply, "No, they wouldna' do that. They're, well mos'ly good folk."

Dumbledore's expression darkened a little. "You know they have little reason to love the Ministry. No, I think we will have slim hope of gaining their aid…"

Again, the large man interrupted, "That's not right, Professor. We can't just give up on them." Hagrid paused a moment. "I'll go ter them. I'll talk ter them, some o' them'll listen ter me."

"No Hagrid, I cannot ask you to do this. The chances of your absence being noticed would increase your danger, and the danger of our enemies realising what you are about is too great." The Headmaster shook his head sadly.

Hagrid slumped back into the groaning couch, the minimal splash of forehead still visible between his eyebrows and hair deeply furrowed.

Dumbledore continued, "It would be a disaster if the Ministry were to find you consorting with giants aligned with Voldemort. We both know the Ministry has been thoroughly infiltrated by Death Eaters…"

"What if we had someone fill in fer me, someone who would distrac' folks from noticin' I was gone?" An almost thoughtful tone coloured the half-giant's voice as he interrupted the other man.

It was Dumbledore's turn to lean back in his chair. Eyebrow raised, he spoke slowly, "With the right…person…it might…" He shook his head. "No. I couldn't ask this of you, Hagrid."

Hagrid stood up, his posture resolved. "Yeh know it's the only way. An' I know just the man." The huge figure leaned forward and mumbled something for the Headmaster's ear only.

Dumbledore looked up at Hagrid, surprise etched on his face. "Would he come?"

"I'd reckon so," a huge grin split the big man's beard as he stepped towards the door.


	2. two

This little piece of fluff should in no way be considered a challenge to the ownership of the characters or intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. Send not thy Lawyers to bedevil me... Please...

Honey-Bee : I really should have named this something else...shouldn't I...

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The door shut behind the huge man, leaving the Headmaster alone in his office. Dumbledore lifted his wand off the desk in front of him and tapped himself on the nose.

Brilliant sparkles shone from his eyes, as the glamour that had been suppressing them slid away. A smile, full of self-satisfaction, spread across Dumbledore's face.

"I wonder if he would have been as willing if I had just asked," the Headmaster mused to himself.

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Hagrid was feeling a little frustrated. How to phrase this right? He scrunched up yet another sheet of parchment. With a quick flip, it sailed off through the air to join its dozen or so predecessors.

Fang looked up at his master briefly as the ball of parchment bounced off his head.

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Many hours passed before a large shadow skulked across the grounds. The entrance to the Owlery opened briefly, the hulking shadowy form disappeared within.

Hagrid scanned the roosts, searching for just the right owl. "Ah there yeh are, girl." He reached up for one of the long-distance owls, and attached a letter to her leg. "Now don't yeh go talkin' to any strangers on yer way."

The large man smiled, gave the owl a treat from one of his voluminous pockets, and released her.

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Many hours and half a world away, an exhausted owl rested on the sill of a rather large open window, it's message delivered, assiduously avoiding even the idea of flying all the way back to England.


	3. three

This little piece of fluff should in no way be considered a challenge to the ownership of the characters or intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. Send not thy Lawyers to bedevil me. Please.

And for the record, I have only the highest of respect for Steve and his family. Though I do think he has spent a little too much time in New Zealand than is good for him.

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**Chapter 3**

The lawns surrounding the ancient citadel turned educational facility commonly referred to as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were immaculate. Moreso, they were perfection incarnate.

At least, that is, according to the various grass-eating creatures that frequented the grounds. In fact, Aberforth Dumbledore's goats could occasionally be overheard commenting on what truly fine grass this is, old chap…

In the thousand or so years that the institution had occupied this site, only twice had the lawns been disturbed. The first time had been during a particularly vigorous mating flight when a small horde of dragons had descended on the grounds and wreaked havok for a few days. The second time had been during World War Two, when an unexploded bomb had landed smack bang in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, causing a hole to be made.

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Harry Potter was worried. His scar had been hurting a lot more recently and Hagrid was missing. Enough of Hagrid's things were missing, that it was obvious he was away on a mission for Dumbledore and the Order, but Harry still worried about his big friend.

He was sitting by the windowsill in the Gryffindor common room, idly watching the small plume of smoke and dust making it's way up the path from Hogsmeade to the school…

…

"Hermione? Ron?" The bored detachment in Harry's voice belied by the slight hitch as he asked, "What do you suppose could make a dust cloud like that?"

Hermione and Ron looked up from their books, _Benign Malefica_ and the _Gryffindor Quidditch Playbook_ respectively, gave each other a brief questioning glance, then moved over to join Harry in looking out the window.

"I don't know Harry, do you suppose it could be Death Eaters?" Ron asked just a little bit too loudly in the suddenly SILENT common room.

The trio froze and slowly looked around. Every face in the common room was 1. very pale, and 2. looking at them.

Except for Colin Creevey, who had his camera with it's newly adapted telephoto lens, and was hanging halfway out one of the windows hoping to get a glimpse of the Death Eaters.

A few moments later, a much discouraged Colin reappeared in the still silent room, saying, "Nope, no Death Eaters." And walking dejectedly back to his desk.

Dean Thomas piped up, "How can you tell, Colin?"

"Easy, the Dark Tollywadger doesn't drive a tan Range Rover."

…

The entire room spent a few silent minutes digesting that piece of information.

The senior students spent a few more moments looking from one to the other before Harry finally spoke.

"Care to explain that last comment, Colin?"

Colin looked as though he was being asked to wear a banana suit into the Gorilla exhibit at the Royal Zoo. "Well it's obvious really. It'd be black, wouldn't it? I can't imagine that he bathes very often..."

The logic seemed to escape everyone. Except Hermione, who was getting a little red faced while trying to keep in her laughter, and who was now hiding behind her book.

On behalf of the rest of the purebloods in the room, Ron asked the question that was bugging him the most. "What is a Grange Rober?"

Seamus, seeing an opportunity he couldn't resist, leapt into the conversation, "You are Ron, you are."

Half the room broke out in laughter, while Hermione and Harry almost fell off their chairs at the look on Ron's face when he realised what he had said.

Wiping tears away from her eyes, Hermione eventually answered, "A Range Rover is a kind of car that muggles drive. A big, powerful car for driving in rough terrain."

Various nods of vague comprehension intermingled with the remaining chuckles wandering the room.

Harry stood up, "Well I'm going to go have a look, you never know, Lord Venerealwart might be trying a Trojan Horse thing." And walked towards the exit, checking for his wand as he went.

He was quickly followed by the rest of the Gryffindors, whose curiousity had far outweighed any feelings of fear or unease…or for that matter common sense.

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In the meantime, the dust cloud (with or without said cargo of Death Eaters) was getting perilously close to the main gates.

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It was in fact a pair of tan Range Rovers, each towing a quite sizable enclosed trailer.

As they passed through the gates and onto the grounds, the great wheels tore up huge swathes of turf, sending Filch into hysterics at the thought of having to clean up this new and horrific mess.

The two vehicles finally pulled up beside Hagrid's hut, and a number of pleasant looking folks in robes ranging from tan to olive green, climbed out of the cabs.

Professor Dumbledore had long since reached the front doors, having gotten word of his guests arrival upon their reaching Hogsmeade. He made his way down the lawn to the first vehicle, where a younger wizard was lifting a small child down onto the ground.

"Steven, Terri, I'm so glad you could make it. Did the portkeys give you any trouble?"

"Albus. Mate." The younger man shook Dumbledore's had vigorously. "No worries, worked like a charm." A confident grin spread across his face. "Though it may have upset some of my little friends back here."

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Severus Snape was more than a little worried about what this man considered his 'little friends' and what it might mean if they were 'upset'.


	4. four

This little piece of fluff should in no way be considered a challenge to the ownership of the characters or intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. Send not thy Lawyers to bedevil me. Please.

* * *

Chapter 4

The large crate had been sitting on the ground for several hours. At a number of points around the crate, there were sections of bars to allow air to flow freely.

Inside said crate, a dozen or so dozy looking bundles of fur clung to a number of tree branches, sleeping.

Appearances can be deceptive, however, and they were all watching a rather inquisitive Bowtruckle hovering around the outside of the cage. If there is one thing that can be said about Koala's, and their more voracious cousins, it is that they have brought the art of sitting around doing nothing much at all to a whole new level.

After a time, their patience was handsomely rewarded. The Bowtruckle entered the compartment, coming within reach of one of the dozing bears and **_SNAP_**. It was caught in the powerful claws of the most ferocious arboreal predator in the magical world.

For the first time in hours, the Drop Bears began moving. The biggest one took the Bowtruckle and sat considering it, while several others moved to view their surroundings through the barred windows of their crate. A few quiet grunts announced the all clear.

The biggest moved over to the entrance, reached the paw holding the Bowtruckle through it, and began manipulating it in the padlock securing the door.

Twenty minutes, and a lot of pitiful squeaking from the Bowtruckle, later the door was released and a number of dark, furry shapes could barely be seen slipping away into the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

School had already been back for almost a week, but it appeared that Dumbledore was putting on another feast to welcome his new guests. Not that the students were complaining, though there were a few mutters about some of the foods that had turned up on the tables.

Hermione figured that the strange foods probably had something to do with the Headmaster's guests, who she could see happily tucking into them.

She was as surprised as the rest of the students, however, when a strange creature appeared in front of the newcomers. It had tan fur, was standing upright on it's hind legs, had a long heavy tail and a small thin head, it's arms were thin and ended in small clawed hands.

"Steve, mate, we've gotta problem. The bloody bears have dunna runna agin." It's thick Australian accent, and habit of running words together made it a little hard to understand. "Picked the bloody lock with a Bowtruckle and pissed off inta the forest."

"No point crying over spilt potion, Sheila. We'll round 'em up later." The man smiled down at the kangaroo. "Go crack a tinny and take the night off."

She nodded, snatched a sausage off his plate, and vanished.

The muttering among the students resumed, though the topic had shifted from the rather odd cuisine, to the possible danger represented by a bunch of runaway bears.

Hermione was more concerned about them having picked the lock, it implied a degree of intelligence and the ability to use tools. Not a good combination in a predatory animal.

* * *

As the meal wound down, the Headmaster stood up to speak.

"What a marvellous meal. Yes. Well, I'm quite sure you're all very curious about our guests. This is Professor Erwin, he is visiting us as part of an exchange program, and will be replacing Professor Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures. To his right is Madam Erwin, and their daughter, Bindi. I know you will all make them feel welcome, thank you." Dumbledore now looked down at the assembled students over the top of his halfmoon glasses. "On a final note, it has just become substantially more dangerous to enter the Forbidden Forest, so I would recommend against entering it." His gaze appeared to have fixed on a certain trio.

The entire room sat quietly for a moment, before wild cheers and applause broke out from the Slytherin table. Shortly followed by polite applause from the other tables, as well as confused looks directed towards the Slytherins. This was very out of character for them, but not really when you thought about it. Hagrid was gone, and had been replaced by a name they knew well.

The teachers, one by one, finished up and left the hall, leaving only Vector and MacGonnegal behind to supervise the students, who were showing no sign of moving anywhere so caught up in discussion of the new professor were they.

Basically, there were three initial reactions to the new Professor.

The muggleborns, and some of the halfbloods, were mildly impressed. They had heard of Steve Erwin, the Crocodile Hunter was a well-known celebrity, even in England. Though they were a little confused since he was obviously not the muggle they had thought he was.

The purebloods, and some of the halfbloods, were swinging between openly impressed and downright terrified. The Dragon Hunter's exploits were a thing of legend, as was his Dangerous Creatures Reserve in the northeast of Australia.

Harry Potter, was clueless. Despite having been raised in the muggle world, he had no idea who Steve Erwin was. Fortunately his companions, pureblooded Ron Weasley to his right, and muggleborn Hermione Granger to his left, were more than happy to enlighten him, and in the doing so, each other.

Ron was highly impressed that a Wizard of Erwin's pureblood lineage had managed to not only function in the muggle world, but achieve fame without straining the secrecy laws.

Hermione was wondering out loud if Professor Erwin wrestled Dragons like he did Crocodiles.

Several people found this idea amusing, though the assembled students began breaking up and heading for the dormitories, her question unanswered.

* * *


End file.
